The white faucet handles became green and frumpy
From not being touched or turned for so long
The cold water in my bathtub
Heated up to the memory of you
My imagination traveled far
As we became lions
Aggressive with simple intentions.
Thirteen, fourteen, nineteen years had passed
And the image of us sharpened
As my eyes are repeatedly kissed by first times
Second times, and third ones.
My neck blistered
As steam began to rise from my bath.
I picked my cooked arm up to run
My browned fingers through my brown strains of hair.
My mind was back to the golden lions
That have fallen in love for a few hours in the summer heat.
It isn't until the part where they go their own separate ways
That I realized that
I had forgotten where I was
And the splash of sudden reality caused my
My breath to crash against my ribs
And my head to sink below the surface.
